Tango

Problem: How does one woo the hearts of women everywhere?

Solution: By dancing THE TANGO.

One thing that is really cool about my program is that the organizers are really awesome about letting us know about social activities outside of school, and coordinating them for us. One such actividad took place last Friday night in a club in a happenin' part of town called Palermo. We would be taking a tango lesson. Portenos son locos for dancing the tango.

As you may or may not know, the tango originated as a Spanish mating dance that was brought here by Cabeza de Vaca before he discovered Texas, but after he invented the cow. Legend has it that the first citizens of Buenos Aires immediately took a shining to the tango because finally their black berets made sense in some sort of social context. Buenos Aires hasn't looked back.

The tango consists of 7 basic steps. Now, when I say steps, that is exactly what I mean. STEPS. This isn't one of those sneaky dances like the electric slide where the "steps" are actually complex turns that end up making you feel awkward for not knowing them at 7th grade social. They are slow, methodical steps, and for some reason look especially tight when you drag your feet along the ground. You get rewarded for being lazy! Clearly I was learning the right dance.

Of course, in the advanced classes, they teach turns and how to hold roses correctly in one's lips, but you gotta crawl before you walk, so they didn't make us do that. They did, however, make sure that we switched partners after every 3 turns with someone (approx. 21 steps, for those keeping track at home). This worked out well, because it gave everyone a chance to mingle a bit with the people in our program...then meet some other American students from other schools...then with Argentinians around our age...and then....

TANGO! Before I knew it I was rotating with Argentinian women in their late 50s and early 60s. I thought that it would be funny to act debonaire and make small talk and joke. (Possible joke that I considered telling upon accidentally stepping on a woman's toes: "Lo siento mucho. No soy el famoso Carlos Gardel!" Cue: Histerical middle-aged laughter.) As you say in Spanish: "No!" These women weren't having it. It was strictly business, and the business was Tango. Friends, believe me when I say, for a middle-aged women from Buenos Aires, business is good.

Now the night was moving along, and of course I was sweating up a storm. One more thing I like about Buenos Aires is that places are open late. So I went to a pharmacy, bought some Old Spice deoderant, applied, and got right back to dancing. And that's how I learned the tango.